Deathly Veil
by Celestia Craven Genesis
Summary: In the Department of Mysteries, Harry Potter managed to run through the Veil after Sirius Black. In an alternate dimension, a Harry taught to use magic before he could walk trades places with the original and walks out of the Veil. This new Harry believes that he is merely sent back through time, but soon realizes his mistake.


**Published**: Wednesday, September 18, 2013

**Notes**: In order to encourage us to stay off of the computer, my Dad has changed the password to his WiFi and my internet access in limited to the ancient Linux box (whose sound is broke and is located in the living room instead of my quiet bedroom). Rawr. To be honest, it's probably for the best. I actually write more when I don't have access to fanfiction, because I tend to read a whole lot more than I write. Anywho, I've always thought that the Veil of Death was very interesting, and I wanted to write a somewhat awesome Harry Potter. That combined to create this story. Basically, Canon Harry jumps into the Veil, and Very-Very-Different Harry jumps out of the Veil. I'm wanting to focus on who exactly this new Harry is, and what impact he will have on the Wizarding World. If you have any thoughts, as always, feel free to share them. I'm always happy to receive constructive criticism. (And, actually, I'm still waiting to get my first flame. I haven't gotten one yet. ^_^)

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**Chapter One**

Falling to the Ground

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The moment that Sirius Black began to fall back into the Veil, Harry lunged after him. It was not a rational decision. It was pure instinct. Harry had lost enough already for a lifetime, and Sirius Black was the last straw. Sirius Black couldn't die. He simply couldn't. Harry wouldn't allow it.

If Harry had paused for even a moment, if Remus had been a little faster . . . Well, things would have gone a far bit differently. In reality, Harry was so used to tragedy that he had become accustomed to pushing aside his horror in exchange for instant action.

Harry pushed himself up the Veil's stairway, formal school shoes hitting each step like a sledgehammer. His robes billowed around him like a set of wings. Harry's arms pumped wildly, and then he was at the top. He pushed Bellatrix Lestrange physically aside, and she dropped to the marble floor in surprise at Harry's magic-enhanced speed and strength. Accidental magic, just a bit, but enough.

Harry reached toward the void beyond the Veil and shouted desperately, "Sirius!"

Then, with a twist of the dimensional fabric, he ran right through the Veil and to the other side.

Harry stumbled, as if he had been pushed through instead of running through of his own volition. He stopped, and planted his feet apart, wand pointing sharply down to the side. His green eyes jumped from dueling figure to dueling figure, from Order member to Death Eater.

"Harry!" Remus shouted, reaching the top of the stairway holding the Veil of Death and reaching out a hand. He attempted to catch Harry's school robes in his hand, to hold Harry close to him for protection, but Harry danced neatly to the side, wand arm pointing up, and pinned him with dispassionate eyes.

Harry frowned, tilting his head to the side. "Tell me," he murmured. "Where am I?"

Remus' eyes widened in shock and hastily-hidden hurt. "The Department of Mysteries," he responded, before studying the boy carefully. "Harry, can't you remember? Amnesia? Can you tell me your name?"

"Harry James Potter," Harry replied with an annoyed twitch of his eyebrows. "And I assure you, my memory is perfectly functional."

Remus sighed in relief. "Good," he said. His eyes flicked to the Veil and shined with tears for a moment, before he jerked his head toward the door of the room. "Let's hurry," he said. "It's not safe."

Harry turned his suspicious gaze from Remus to the fighting going on below them. "I agree," he said. His wand flicked toward Remus and caught him in some sort of defensive shield.

Remus's eyes widened and his own wand twisted in an attempt to free himself from the shield, but to no avail. "What are you doing?" he questioned. "Let me out!" His extensive knowledge of spellwork did him little good, only wasting energy.

Harry did not seem to hear Remus' demands at all. Instead, Harry turned his eyes toward the Veil of Death and narrowed them thoughtfully. Then, he pointed his wand toward the crowd of fighters on the floor below––most notably, Bellatrix Lestrange.

There was a twitch of his wand, and then the famous murderess was laying on the ground, hands lifted to her head and shuddering.

"That's for Neville," Harry whispered under his breath, green eyes glowing with restrained magic.

Harry leapt forward, making a fair distance and wizarding robes billowing around his frame. He had made it all the way to the bottom of the large stairs in a single leap, in a move that could not have been natural. The teenager landed down on the floor with a crack of the marble tiles, but no sooner had he touched the floor than Harry was up, leaning away from colorful zaps of spellwork and crouching next to Bellatrix.

Harry laid a hand on her shoulder and the spell keeping her on the floor and shivering seemed to dissipate harmlessly into the air. "_Trans_," he murmured, wand motionless. Instead, his magic seemed to flow trough his left arm, directly into the woman, and she popped out of thin air and thick apparition wards.

During the battle, everyone had ignored the people on top of the stairway for the most part. However, this scene of Harry's had caught everyone's attention. Death Eaters shifted to include Harry within their wand's reach and Order members carefully began to point their footsteps in his direction to get ahold of him and throw him out of the room. Dangerous spells lined the air, Killing Curses and Crucios interspersed with the occasional cutting curse or other Dark spell. A few rather harmless Stunners and Disarming spells also sang through the air, missing their primary marks, but they were batted aside with a lazy hand.

Harry weaved easily through the fray, effortlessly shrugging off attempts to both attack and shield him. He danced across the room, every once in a while stopping nearby a Death Eater and twisting his hand toward them with a pale, wordless spell following the motion and bringing them to the floor.

The battle was over almost before it had gotten underway. Remus was still at the top of the stairs, unable to walk past the boundaries of the shielding spell. At least ten Death Eaters were laying on the floor, and the Order members began to outnumber their Dark counterparts. It was at this point that Harry felt the stirrings of _his_ energy, wafting into the air like rot, draining the world around himself like a parasite.

Harry excused himself instantly from the battle in the Department of Mysteries, sprinting toward the doorway. He ran through the hallways, following the energy, and was soon standing in the Ministry's Atrium.

Voldemort was waiting, motionlessly, in front of the floo connections, wand held lazily in his bloodless fingertips as he followed the motions of Harry with his red eyes.

"Harry Potter," he whispered.

Harry remained silent, striding forward until a mere five or six yards separated them. His stride remained balanced and when he stopped he carefully positioned himself with his wand ready to dart before him with any of a large collection of protective magics.

Voldemort allowed one side of his mouth to tilt upwards in satisfaction. "I dangled the bait . . ." he said, gesturing with his hand to the grand Atrium around them, wrist flicking dramatically, "––and here you are."

"Here I am," Harry agreed neutrally. His eyes narrowed, watching the Dark Lord carefully. Harry's magic crawled through the air, better defending himself against the idea of a Death Eater taking a shot toward his unprotected back.

As he prepared his defenses and carefully brought the shields in his mind to full strength, Harry pondered his actions. He remembered holding the ancient stone in his hand, and then a feeling of ripping, tearing, breaking . . . Then he was near the Veil of Death, the ancient execution device, without a notion as to why.

Well, he was starting to get an idea.

"_Alororum, denitz kolorbav,_" Harry murmured under his breath, realization coloring his words.

"What was that?" Voldemort asked.

Harry lifted his introspective eyes from the floor to Voldemort's face. "_Alororum, denitx kolorbav_," he repeated, voice curiously flat. "Time, thou art mutable."

Voldemort's serpentine face twisted in curiosity. "Have you broken, mind crushed by the strain?" he wondered, as if asking a perfectly pleasant question. "Or have you a purpose in such musings?"

Harry's mouth twisted into a smirk. "Oh, you have no idea," he said, green eyes glowing. "You really have absolutely no idea about any of this at all. How amusing . . ."

Voldemort's red eyes seethed like boiling magma, and the wand dangling from his fingers leapt into his hand. _No one_ would be allowed find their amusement in Lord Voldemort. "_Avada Kedavara! Crucio!_" he exclaimed, wand a blur as he batted curse after curse toward the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry darted to the size and took shelter behind the fountain, death-dealing magic jumping around him with poisonous colors like blood red and sickly yellow. A large piece of the fountain broke off from a particularly vicious spell, dust blooming into the air. The water from the fountain pooled onto the floor, rippling with the falling debris.

Seeing a rare opportunity, Harry pointed toward the piece of rubble with his hand and willed the stone into the air, floating before him. He jumped from behind the fountain to on top of the rock, using it as a stepping stone in order to leap into the air above Voldemort, where he rained spell after spell down at him from wand and bare hand.

His arms blurred, tying the outer fringes of the spells together, locking them in place, pulling them where they did not want to go, a dozen spells or more compressed before him. The magic held in such a small space caused the air to shiver with its power. Then, with a mighty roar, Harry released them all at once toward Voldemort, who was helpless to do anything but place up his strongest shield and take cover with a displeased hiss.

When Voldemort lowered his glowing red shield, there was no one there. He swung around, black robes flaring. His thin lips curled into a sneer. "Hiding, are we?" he asked, stalking forward. "Too frightened to stand against my might, Potter?"

A wave of magic came from behind him, and Voldemort turned on his heels only to be knocked off of his feet, wand flying to the floor with a disproportionally loud clatter. Otherwise, the room was eerily silent.

Voldemort pressed a hand against his ribcage with a pained, shaky breath, reaching out his trembling other hand toward his wand. A pair of dusty shoes entered his vision, followed by the crouching Harry Potter.

Harry had an elbow resting on either of his thighs, peering down at Voldemort with an amused quirk of his eyebrows. "Frightened indeed," Harry said with a shake of his head, reaching out his left hand to pluck the wand from the floor. He raised it close to his face, studying it curiously and ignoring the wizard on the floor an armslength away.

Voldemort's hand, shaking with effort, dropped to the dust covered marble floor of the Atrium with a displeased screech. "Don't touch it!" he commanded.

Harry looked at Voldemort from the corner of his eyes before returning to the wand. He twisted it toward the fountain with a murmured spell, and the fountain's water inched back toward the broken fountain, which reformed itself into a large bowl, plain and simple.

It was an easy work of magic to create such a simple thing. Still, Voldemort roared with anger and fear. That was _his_ wand, _his_ focus, and that his enemy could use it was horrifying.

Harry turned the wand away from the fountain and pointed it at Voldemort himself, who was powerless.

Before anything could happen, a crowd of Aurors followed by Minister Fudge ran into the room, many still clothed in their nightgowns and pajamas. A floo connection's flames roared to life and Dumbledore himself strolled through, dignified as ever.

Harry turned back to Voldemort, but the feared wizard was gone. A flare of an empty floo and a bit of black cloth were the only remains of the fearsome Dark Lord.

The Minister was staring at where Voldemort had disappeared, face ashen. "Was that . . . ?" he asked.

Harry turned to the Minister. "Voldemort?" he finished with a mocking gasp. "Why, I believe it _was_. The most fearsome wizard to ever live, running from a fifteen year old . . . So, tell me, where exactly are your courageous Aurors _now_, Minister?" he asked, eyes gleaming with displeasure, wand in either hand twitching with anger.

The Minister's mouth opened and closed like a fish, reddening rapidly.

"Ah, yes," Harry murmured to himself, eyes shadowing as he murmured to himself. "You haven't passed the Auror Act yet, have you? The Prophecy . . . That would make this my fifteen year."

Albus Dumbledore took a few careful steps forward, eyes flitting from place to place as he attempted to make sense of what he had seen as he had entered the room. "Harry?" he questioned hesitantly.

Harry shook himself out of thought. "No matter," he said. "The battle in the Department of Mysteries should be over by now, Dumbledore. An owl will find me, if I am needed. Until then . . ." he said, mouth upturning into a Cheshire Cat grin. "Sayonara."

With those words, Harry vanished through one of the world's strongest anti-Appartition wards.

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**Next Chapter**: A Shattered Mirror

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Please Review; Constructive Criticism Welcomed!


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